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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692763">Archangels</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damonicus/pseuds/Damonicus'>Damonicus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Strange Magic (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beaches, Dinner, F/M, Flying, Marriage Proposal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:26:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damonicus/pseuds/Damonicus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog--a member of a paramilitary organization--has an important mission, perhaps the most important in his life. Even with the help of friends, can he pull it off?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Archangels</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/gifts">EndoratheWitch</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>A shadow sped through the late afternoon cloud cover, weaving in and out of the white masses of water vapor and maintaining a westward course. At this height, nearly two miles above the ground, nothing except the rushing of the wind could be heard. The figure flew into a mile wide gap in the clouds. Below could be seen mountains that reflected the golden glow of the sun, painting the landscape in soft oranges and yellows, flecked with the occasional patch of snow at the peaks that appeared red-orange under the shining rays of afternoon light. 
</p><p>Spreading his arms out to his sides with little effort against the drag of air over his limbs, he soared like a jet fighter to cut through the air with ease. With his arms extended away from his body in such a way, he achieved neither greater speed nor added control, but he enjoyed it. Within moments, he sliced into the cloud cover again and increased his speed as he shortened the distance to his target. Practicality forced him to place his arms at his sides again as he increased speed in order to make the deadline. If he did not reach his target and execute his plans at the prescribed time, the efforts of many people would have been for nothing. He would not let down those who depended upon him as a symbol and as a colleague and friend. 
</p><p>The heads up display on the inside of the protective face shield he wore  showed that at his present speed, he would be cutting it close—too close. He narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, repeating the breathing exercise a few times. Then, with a shudder through his body, he increased his flying speed. His body had developed to withstand the pressures and stresses of flight in ways that doctors still found fascinating, but his body had its limits. He wanted, needed, to make this operation a success. If he had to put up with a few broken capillaries along the way to make certain that this op went off without a hitch, then the minor sacrifice would be worth it. 
</p><p>He smiled to himself. Oh, it would be worth it. It had to be.
</p><p>As he passed two-point-five times the speed of sound, a click in his left ear told him that his monitor had noticed what would be called “reckless endangerment” or some other nonsense. He sighed and decided to get it over with.
</p><p>“Snoop One, I hear you. What do you need?” 
</p><p>“King. Your air speed is above the nominal flight risk indicators. Do you have a good reason for that? And don’t call me Snoop.” King grinned inwardly at the sound of irritation in the other man’s voice. 
</p><p>“Confirmed, I have a good reason for my oh so risky behavior.” Just to test the other one, he increased his speed to Mach two-point-six. 
</p><p>“Well?” asked the monitor.
</p><p>“Well what, Baker?” King asked with as innocent a tone as he could muster.
</p><p>“Cut the crap, King,” Baker said in a stern voice. “What is your reason for increasing speed beyond regulations?”
</p><p>King sighed quietly, but the microphone in his sleek helmet was sensitive enough to catch it. He answered before Baker’s blood pressure could elevate higher. “As I recall, this op is off the books and I don’t need a cluster of eggheads and doctors to tell me what I can and cannot do. I’m the one doing the flying here. And, by the way, I helped to create the regulations.”
</p><p>No answer immediately radiated in his ear piece, but King knew that Baker was formulating a response. After a few more seconds, the monitor spoke in measured tones. “It is my job and responsibility to make certain that you do not cause harm to your body and thereby derail the agency’s plans. Besides,” he added with a wry tone. “If you get hurt, it would likely cause us to go over budget.”
</p><p>King chuckled and edged his speed a bit higher yet, glad that the field surrounding his body deflected the heat generated by his transonic flight. “It’s all about the money, huh, Baker?”
</p><p>“And the paperwork I would have to fill out,” added the man on the other end of the communications signal. “Just keep it in check, King.”
</p><p>“All right, Baker,” the flyer replied. “You win. After I complete this op, I’ll follow my own regs. King out.” His words ended the communications and another quick vocal command silenced any further attempts at audio connection from the monitoring station where Baker likely sat fuming at the non-compliant operative who continued to make good speed towards the western coastline. Noting the time indicated on the display at the upper left of his visual display, King decided to risk just a bit more out of his body. His speed increased another fraction, edging closer to two-point-nine times the speed of sound.
</p><p>In response to his efforts, he began to feel the drag waves pulling against his body through the latest design of protective suits that had been crafted by the best aviation engineers working in conjunction with physicians who studied the stresses under which pilots and astronauts and fliers placed their bodies. At this speed, the blood pressure increased, adrenaline flowed into the blood stream in elevated levels, and some people had experienced blackouts. His smile broadened, imagining what sort of fit Baker might be having while monitoring the data scrolling across his screen as King pushed well past the safety guideline that had been determined by the same physicians, engineers, and a few pilots from within and outside of the agency. King had even agreed to the limitations along with the other operatives who shared his particular talents. But rules were meant to be bent, especially when the rest of his life might depend upon a successful mission.  Besides, they couldn't ground him as they might discipline a pilot who needed an aircraft to enjoy the freedom of the skies. 
</p><p>His smile faded as he streaked through the clouds, noting a commercial aircraft on his radar as a tiny green dot less than five miles away. At these speeds, five miles was dangerously close. He adjusted his altitude, rising higher to place his path well above that of the low flying plane, probably a small single engine plane. The materials that had gone into the manufacture of his protective suit were meant to deflect his radar signature, which was good for stealth missions, but could be a detriment when other fliers were unaware of other objects—and people—sharing the same air space.
</p><p>He avoided the plane with over a mile distance to spare between them and thought of the plan for this evening. Calling it a mission would be a mistake, possibly because he actually felt nervous about the proposed actions he intended to take. Another few minutes passed with the only sound reaching his ears that of the wind shrieking past his body. At these speeds, the helmet served as scant insulation from the roaring of his flight through the atmosphere. He focused on the rushing air to take his mind off his nervousness, but adrenaline seemed to flow into his bloodstream as if he were about to enter combat. But tonight was nothing close to a combat op.
</p><p>He noted his position in relation to his destination and began to slow his flight while descending to a reasonable seven thousand feet. The clouds began to thin out here and soon, other than a few wisps in the distance north and south, he had entered clear skies. His visor dimmed automatically to lessen the bright, late afternoon sunlight that shone directly in his face as he continued his flight westward. Within a couple of miles of his target, he would make a sharp descent to his target, but for now, he wanted to catch a good view of the ocean. 
</p><p>And there it was in the distance. From his perspective, the ocean and the sky met in a perfect line that demarcated his world from one in which he felt alien. He had only been under the surface of the ocean twice and one of those times had only been in waist deep water when a wave had knocked him over. Though the thought of being underwater made him feel as he had as a child when he could not stand looking over the second floor railing of his house without feeling vertigo; he felt a peculiar draw to the massive expanse from out of which life had spawned. He had mastered the air; perhaps it was time to try his hand at sea diving. A faint beeping sounded inside of his helmet, alerting him to the fact that he needed to decelerate and descend.
</p><p>With little more than a well-practiced thought, he began to reduce his speed quickly. Rapid deceleration made him feel light headed and flushed, but the twenty gees or so that he felt was easily less than what many other pilots experienced during rapid deceleration. He could push it to twice that, perhaps more, but he preferred to deal with speed rather than braking. And it would not do to create a mishap before his plans could really get started.
</p><p>As he descended to an altitude of only a couple of hundred feet, he looked down at the shoreline as it spread the north and south away from his destination—a modern, yet simple beach house with its blinds all rolled up to allow the gentle ocean breezes to flow through its simple confines. The golden sunlight illuminated the western side of the house, but a dozen torches set into iron brackets equally spaced around its elevated wraparound polished wooden deck served to give the small building an inviting feeling. The roar of wind in his ears had ceased with his deceleration, but it was replaced with the constant rushing sound of the surf. Both were like soft music to his ears, comforting and natural.
</p><p>At just over three hundred feet in altitude, he turned so that his booted feet faced the ground. Within moments, he lowered himself carefully until his feet touched sand. Before he could raise his hands to detach his helmet, two men and a woman rushed out of the house to greet him. All three were clad in clean, white clothes that seemed common for casual beach side events. Except that tonight felt anything but common to him.
</p><p>The first man to reach him was a full head taller than King—himself a tall man--and half again as broad with a barrel chest revealed by the loose, white button down shirt that evoked an image in his mind of a small tent. The bigger man’s easy smile and twinkling dark eyes set in a rich, light brown face made most people feel at ease around him despite his imposing size. Most were unaware how truly powerful and skilled a warrior he truly was. Not waiting for King to remove his helmet, the larger man gripped his friend in a breath depriving hug, lifting King off his feet for a moment. “It’s good to see you, buddy!”
</p><p>King chuckled when he could catch his breath as the bigger man set him down. Unhinging the clasps that held his helmet in place and lifting it off his head, he said, “Sunny, it’s only been a few days.” 
</p><p>Sunny’s smile broadened more. “I always miss my family when they aren’t with me, little King.” The big man stepped back a half-pace to allow his two companions to give their greetings to his friend. The other man, the shortest of the group, though thicker in the chest and arms and with bright blond hair, also grabbed his friend in a firm embrace.
</p><p>“Glad you could make it, pal,” he said in greeting. “I was beginning to worry a bit.”
</p><p>As his friend stepped back, King’s sharp, blue eyes caught a new scar over his friend’s left eyebrow. He said nothing, however. Thang’s chosen profession was possibly more dangerous than his own. His observant friend answered him anyway. “A souvenir from our friends on the Chinese border. Nothing to worry about now, though. Tonight is your night,” Thang said with a sly grin. 
</p><p>The woman in the trio made a small sound in her throat that commanded more attention than a shout, turning all eyes on her. When she saw that she had the men’s attention, she smiled beatifically and stepped forward to wrap her arms around King’s neck and hold him close for a moment before pulling back to look him in the eyes. She spoke to all three men, though she kept her discerning gaze upon King's face. “Tonight belongs to King and Marianne.” She hugged King again and stepped back. The blonde woman and his two oldest friends looked at him in anticipation. He nodded with a slight smile and then it faded as the reality of this night faced him. Tonight would be spectacular or it would be ruinous. Either way, it would be momentous.
</p><p>“Thanks for being here, Dawn. You too,” he added, sharing looks with Sunny and Thang. “I appreciate all that you’ve done to help with tonight.”
</p><p>Thang waved a hand in dismissal. “No trouble at all, man. Besides,” he added with a sly look on his  face. “You’ll do the same when I marry your sister, right?” He waggled his eyebrows and took the gentle punch to his shoulder with a chuckle. 
</p><p>“Well, let’s get to it,” King said. “I need to get out of my gear before Marianne shows up.”
</p><p>“Yeah,” Sunny agreed. “Unlike you, Marianne is always on time.”
</p><p>“Or early,” Dawn said. 
</p><p>Noting the time on his watch, Thang nodded vigorously. “Fifteen minutes, man. Let’s hope your clothes still fit you, huh?”
</p><p>King frowned as he and the others mounted the steps to the deck, his boots cracking sharply as he walked over the sturdy, polished planks, contrasting the soft footfalls of his friends who wore soft soled, white boat shoes. “What does that mean?”
</p><p>Thang smirked. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re older now, which makes it harder to work off the fat.”
</p><p>“We have metabolic rates higher than anyone else on the planet! Even if I didn’t work out—” King took a deep breath, realizing that yet again, his friend had baited him. After so many years of Thang’s teasing, he still could fall prey to the joking. “Ah ha,” he quipped. 
</p><p>“That’s enough, boys,” warned Dawn. “Let’s make certain everything goes as planned.” Thang and Sunny seemed to straighten their backs just a bit at her tone, knowing from experience when Marianne’s sister meant business. Besides that, her pay grade and rank were above theirs. When Major Dawn Summerfield issued a command, people listened.
</p><p>In just under twelve minutes, King had removed his gear, quickly washed off in the beach house’s shower, brushed his teeth, and donned white pants, a vivid blue shirt that matched his eyes, and comfortable white shoes. His hair remained a dark mop that broke military regulation length by a full two inches and resisted Dawn’s attempt to straighten it into a semblance of order. 
</p><p>“You’ll do just fine,” Sunny said just before he, Thang, and Dawn walked out the back of the beach house to wait in an older, yet stolidly built house a half-mile further inland to give King privacy. Sunny’s words, rather than inspiring confidence, seemed to be the spark to ignite a fire of doubt in his gut. Marianne would be here any moment and he could not remember any time since meeting her that he had felt so uncertain. Normally taking the leadership role in the field, King felt almost lost as he tried to find a comfortable position, alternating between sitting at the square table that had been set for two and standing at one of the windows, watching for the arrival of the woman he loved. 
</p><p>The rich aroma of tomato and squash gratin, steamed rice, herbed cucumbers, and the hint of two red wine seared Angus beef steaks kept warm on a grill on the outside deck floated through the beach house. A dessert of Boston cream cake topped with whipped cream, sauced cherries, and a drizzle of chocolate would round out their meal. King had one other surprise for the woman with whom he shared so much. He felt certainty of success one moment and the dread of rejection the next. Either way, tonight would be a new beginning.
</p><p>His musings and misgivings were forgotten as he noticed movement in the sky some distance south. Following the coastline, what had at first appeared to be no more than a tiny dot in the distance soon revealed itself to be a human figure dressed in a simple gray jumpsuit with a sleek white helmet and black visor. Even with the jumpsuit on, the figure was clearly female. King recognized subtle cues in the way she held her arms, the tilt of her helmeted head, and the suit itself, even if the helmet was new. Marianne flew with an easy grace that seemed to King as if she had been born a child of the wind itself. 
</p><p>Nearly skimming the sandy beach with her hands, she flew faster than King thought appropriate if she planned to stop at the beach house. Decelerating at a rate that made him wince, she halted her forward motion rapidly with a light spray of sand kicked up by the wind around her until she hovered within arm’s reach of the balcony railing. She slowly descended until her booted feet lightly touched the deck only a pace from King. He shook his head, but grinned at the daring woman standing before him. 
</p><p>She removed her helmet, and shook her head from side to side to let her unruly mop of shoulder length chestnut hair fall free. Even after wearing form fitting, stream lined head gear, her hair looked spectacular, vibrant. She returned his grin easily with that slightly crooked smirk of hers that always gave him the impression that she knew a bit more than she let on.
</p><p>“Hey, flyboy,” she said with affection, balancing her helmet on the railing. “I thought you needed my help on an op tonight?” She turned her gaze to take in the scene, torches, set table, the grill that emitted pleasant aromas, and his casual attire. “Or is this a private operation that requires just our special talents?” With one raised eyebrow, she made it clear that she felt no irritation at the slight deception he had perpetrated to get her here at this time.
</p><p>He chuckled softly. “Let’s see where the evening takes us, Mare.” He took a deep breath. Seeing her always made him feel better. “Now. Let’s get you out of your suit.”
</p><p>“Already?” she teased. “It has been over a week hasn’t it?”
</p><p>His cheeks reddened at her words. As she unlaced her boots and unzipped the front of her flight suit, he said, “We’ve been busy this last month. I just thought we should have a night to ourselves.” He shrugged and then lifted his thick brows as he saw that underneath her suit, she wore a simple yellow dress that showed no wrinkles despite being worn inside of a suit traveling hundreds of miles per hour; Marianne’s clothing seemed to follow the same rules as her hair. In moments, she had kicked her boots off and was out of her suit, which she casually tossed onto a lounge chair on the deck and then, barefoot, flew into King’s arms. 
</p><p>“You don’t know how much I missed you,” she breathed, her eyes searching his with an intensity that made him swallow. “I worried about you.” Her brow creased just enough that a line formed on her forehead and the skin around her eyes tightened slightly, indicating the depth of her concern. Normally exuberant and with a smile on her face, her suddenly serious demeanor reminded King that his profession could take a toll on the woman he loved.
</p><p>“I’m here now, Mare. Don’t worry, okay?” He kissed her softly, which she returned with more vigor than he expected, but willingly reciprocated. Her lips were soft and she smelled of wild flowers with a hint of honey and vanilla. Her tongue found his and they coiled with and against each other for  a heavy minute before they parted just enough for them to gaze into each others eyes. “I’m here,” he repeated softly, looking into her eyes, at her lips, and her hair, taking in all of her features. His heart felt heavy with want.
</p><p>She gave him a soft smile and then, with a light growl in her voice, said, “Keep it that way, flyboy.” She dropped her hands to squeeze his rear playfully, which tickled slightly and was probably one reason why she did it. He managed to keep from squirming as her smile turned mischievous and she lightly ran her fingers over his buttocks, which only served to tickle more. After a moment, his willpower broke. 
</p><p>“Okay, you win.” He laughed, gripping her arms gently. She made another half-hearted grab, but he danced back, chuckling. “For now,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes. 
</p><p>“We’ll see who comes out on top, lover,” she said with a sidelong look as she settled to the deck and lightly walked through the open doorway into the beach house.
</p><p>He sighed in pleasure and followed Marianne inside to hold a chair for her as she sat down at the table. “Nice house,” she said. “Did you rent it out for long?”
</p><p>He cleared his throat and said, “You could say that. We have it the whole weekend, at least.” 
</p><p>She smiled. “Do tell. A secluded beach house with no one else in sight? We can be as loud as we want.”
</p><p>“Oh, yeah. We definitely can.” He was glad that Marianne’s sister and their friends were quite some distance away.
</p><p>“I meant the stereo, lover,” she replied, pointing at the sound system set against the wall opposite her seat.
</p><p>“Sure you did,” he drawled, leaning against the back of his chair across from her. “Remember that time at the ski lodge?” He smirked as a blush lit her cheeks. It was not often he could get one over on his quick-witted and outgoing girlfriend, but he took delight in being able to bring up fond memories that elicited such a response from her.
</p><p>“That was all your fault,” she accused with a laugh. “You’re just too good.”
</p><p>“Ah,” he said with a wink at her. “Only for you, Marianne,” he declared modestly. “Ever and always.”
</p><p>She tilted her head to the side a fraction, looking at him with warmth in her gaze. “Just keep it that way, flyboy, and we’ll get along just fine. Besides, I’m a jealous woman, remember?”
</p><p>He retrieved the focaccia and served it on clean, white plates with greens on the side and light vinaigrette in which to dip the pieces of grilled bread laden with vegetables. A second plate for each of them held the steaks with a roasted, oil-glazed potato, lightly peppered and salted. Last, he poured two glasses of a rich, aromatic Syrah, one of Marianne’s favorite wines. She watched him with anticipation in her eyes and a smile on her face. Though he had not prepared this meal, his friends had followed his recipe exactly. He had prepared many meals for Marianne since they had been together, but he wanted this one to be unforgettably good. So far, so good, he thought.
</p><p>As he took his seat across from her, Marianne looked from the food to his expectant face. “It looks and smells wonderful. You certainly went to a lot of trouble for a weekend alone with me.”
</p><p>He squinted his eyes sheepishly. “No trouble at all. And I admit that I had some help preparing our dinner and the house, but the weekend is ours.” She nodded, glancing around. “They’re gone now, don’t worry,” he assured her.
</p><p>“Dawn and the boys?”
</p><p>King laughed. “How’d you guess?”
</p><p>“Please,” she said, taking a bite of the focaccia and making a slight moan of pleasure. “I smell the hint of pineapple on my steak. Sunny is the only one I know who does that.” She laughed as King’s eyes widened. “No, no. It’s okay. I like it, really.”
</p><p>He shook his head. “Can’t believe I missed that. Big guy must have ditched the pineapple just before I got here.”
</p><p>“Sounds like him,” she agreed. Finishing off a piece of the grilled bread and vegetables, she picked up her knife and fork to start on her steak. “Do you have any plans for us this weekend besides making mad, passionate love to me?”
</p><p>He took a quick drink of wine and nodded slowly. “I have an idea or two,” he said, attempting without much success to keep the tremor out of his voice as he felt his blood run warm and cold at the same time. 
</p><p>Always perceptive, Marianne frowned slightly as she looked at King. “What’s wrong, lover?”
</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “I just feel a little…Nervous.” That much was true.
</p><p>“Why? We’ve had weekends away together before and it’s not like we haven’t spent a lot of time in the bedroom—and on couches, in showers, on the beach—” He held up a hand to stop her before she went any further. Reminiscing was fun, but he needed to focus. 
</p><p>“Okay,” Marianne said with a touch of concern in her voice. “Now you really are worrying me. What is it?” She set her utensils down, wiped her mouth with the soft cloth napkin, and looked squarely at him with no hint of teasing in her eyes.
</p><p>King felt his pulse in his temples and in his throat and his hands felt clammy. He could pull heavy gee maneuvers that made the other fliers envious, he could fly faster than anyone except perhaps Marianne, and he had been in combat situations more times than he cared to count. During each of those instances, adrenaline filled his bloodstream to allow him to overcome the natural fear that touched every soldier, pilot, airman, or daredevil. With Marianne, he could just let go and be comfortable with who he was and take delight in her personality, the way she made him feel, and how she brought out the best in him while making him want to be better. These thoughts ran through his mind in a matter of seconds, which steeled him for what he needed to say to her.
</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong, Marianne,” he promised with a soft smile. “Nothing at all.” He pushed his chair back, stood up, and stepped around the table until he stood beside her. “I was going to wait until we had finished dinner, but…I’ve waited long enough.” Before he could think of how foolish he might look, he dropped to one knee and took both of her hands in his. Marianne gasped slightly, which he hoped was a good sign. She must have guessed by now what he would say, if not word for word, then in spirit.
</p><p>“Marianne Summerfield,” he began after taking a deep breath. “You’ve been part of my life and part of me for over three years now. You’ve seen me at my best and at my worst. Your worst is what most people think of as their good days and I know you are the best and loveliest thing to happen to me. I’m better for just knowing you, but knowing that you love me—that makes me happier than I could ever measure.” Marianne controlled her breathing, taking even breaths as she listened expectantly, intently watching him with her clear, amber tinted eyes.
</p><p>“I’ve flown with you and loved you almost from the day we met. I want to fly and walk and live with you until my last days. I want to share everything that I am with you and I want you to share with me everything that you are.” He gently removed one of his hands from hers to reach into his shirt pocket. Drawing forth something that he quickly gripped within his fist, he continued. “I told you, ‘ever and always,’ Marianne. That’s what I’m promising now. I’ll be yours ever and always as long as you want me. So...” King opened his hand to produce a white gold band set with a sparkling diamond with a trio of smaller sapphires on either side. “Would you do me the ultimate honor of being my wife?” 
</p><p>Marianne looked at the ring. It was beautiful and she did love sapphires, but what the ring represented was of much greater importance to her. For perhaps the first time since meeting her, King saw that she was speechless. He did not realize that he held his breath, waiting for her reply to his question. She did not keep him waiting long. Tears flowed from her eyes down her cheeks as she nodded vigorously at first and then blurted out, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” She let him place the ring on her left ring finger before she wrapped her arms around his neck in a nearly crushing embrace. “Yes, Bog King. I will be your wife.” 
</p><p>He laughed in delight. His anxiety and nervousness had suddenly been replaced with a dizzying happiness that he had never felt even during his most pleasurable experiences in flight or with Marianne in the past. “And I’ll be your husband,” he said pulling back to look her in the face. 
</p><p>“That’s usually how it works!” she exclaimed through tears of joy and a smile. “Oh, Bog.” She kissed him soundly on his lips and this time, they did not part for some minutes. 
</p><p>With lips that felt bruised after they parted, King grinned at her. “You almost never call me Bog,” he observed.
</p><p>She shrugged. “It seemed appropriate this time,” she explained. “You don’t like it?”
</p><p>“It sounds great when you say it, Mare.”
</p><p>“Good.” She looked at him with that mischievous glint in her eyes suddenly. “Come on,” she demanded, grasping one of his hands and pulling him outside, over the deck, and down the steps onto the sand. He managed to kick off his shoes a few paces from the steps; better to walk in sand than to have it inside his shoes.
</p><p>“Where are we going, beautiful?” he inquired, curious, but not worried.
</p><p>She stopped and turned to face him, keeping her hand firmly grasping his. “Up,” she replied simply and flexed her legs, giving him only a moment to realize what she intended to do. Gifted with quicker reaction times than other people who did not share their peculiar gifts and tuned into her body language, King reacted simultaneously with his fiancee. Silently, the two of them rose into the air in a blur, reaching just over a thousand feet in moments where they halted, hovering in the air while facing each other. The air currents at this height were stronger, but the electromagnetic fields that surrounded their bodies served as a buffer. Their clothing and hair barely fluttered in the wind, but to King’s mind, the faint stirring of Marianne’s hair and yellow dress only made her appear more angelic.
</p><p>“My turn,” she said with a smile. King looked puzzled, but pleasantly so. “It’s too bad you didn’t fall in love with me the day we met because I did fall for you immediately. I guess that means I’ve loved you longer, but I’ll forgive you.” She wore what King called her ‘naughty smirk.’ She tended to telegraph her emotions across her face, which he felt made their relationship that much easier than any other he had been in during his youth.
</p><p>Marianne continued. “I saw this tall, handsome, funny man with a perfect body walking my way and I thought, ‘If only he were a flyer like me.’ And it turned out you were. But I’d love you anyway, flyboy. You make me feel more alive than I ever have before and I want to be with you from this point on. I love you, Bogart King and I want to make love to you right here, right now.”
</p><p>King swallowed. “Right—um, right here?”
</p><p>She nodded. “Uh huh. Now.”
</p><p>He grinned. “Sealing the deal, I guess.”
</p><p>“You betcha!” she growled. “And don’t worry, I don’t think our friends can see us all the way up here.”
</p><p>“But we can see as well as eagles, Marianne,” King pointed out. 
</p><p>She laughed. “I guarantee they’ll mind their own business. Besides, up here,” she paused, glancing around with a comfortable smile. “It’s just you and me.”
</p><p>“I’m yours, Marianne.”
</p><p>“Always.”
 
</p><p>Sunny, Thang, and Dawn sat on the north side of the other beach house in simple, folding beach chairs while looking to the east and up at the darkening sky where the first few bright stars could be seen through the atmosphere. Thang held onto a mug of steaming coffee while Sunny sipped at a small cup of ginseng tea, the cup dwarfed by his large hands. Dawn held onto a glass of white wine, indulging for just this night. 
</p><p>“Think he’ll wait until after dessert to ask her?” Sunny asked with a broad smile.
</p><p>Thang narrowed his eyes in concentration and then rendered his evaluation of their friend. “Nope. Doesn’t have the fortitude or patience.”
</p><p>“I don’t know,” Sunny disagreed quietly. “I think King’s a patient and calculating man.”
</p><p>Thang snorted. “If you had a woman like Marianne, how long would you wait?” 
</p><p>Sunny nodded slowly. “You have a point.” He glanced to his right where Dawn sat cross legged in her seat with a bemused expression on her face. “What do you think?” 
</p><p>Turning her head to face the two men on her left, she opened her mouth to answer, but stopped as she noticed something floating in the air, drifting on the breezes haphazardly making its way towards the earth. She narrowed her eyes, focusing her keen sight on the object. 
</p><p>“Let’s go inside,” she suggested, uncrossing her legs and standing up. “Come on.”
</p><p>“Why?” Thang protested. “I’m enjoying the fresh air.”
</p><p>Sunny noticed the strained expression on Dawn’s face and began to inquire what she meant, but then he glanced to the west and saw what she had seen. He stood quickly as well. “Yeah, Thang,” he said. “Let’s go inside and play cards.”
</p><p>Thang blew out a breath of air, but nodded. “All right. I’m game. I deal first, okay?” He stood and walked through the open door into the confines of the old beach house, downing the last bit of coffee in his mug. Sunny followed closely behind with a broad smile lighting up his face. He looked over his shoulder at Dawn, who put her hands on his back to push him inside. 
</p><p>“Not a word,” she whispered, slightly embarrassed. Thang asked why Sunny let out a robust laugh as Dawn closed the door behind her.
</p><p>Outside, nearly halfway between the beach houses, a yellow dress floated down to land on a tuft of grass poking up through the sand. Freed of a body and an electromagnetic field, the soft fabric fluttered in the ocean breeze that soon carried a few other articles of clothing to the ground, the owners of whom were otherwise too occupied to care about their attire drifting on the night breeze.
 
 
 
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